The cycle had to end.
I could barely see by the time I’d finished. I’d downed the lot, even an old packet of amitriptyline, probably out of date, that I’d been prescribed for migraine prevention several years back. I still had some vodka left, surprisingly, but I felt too queasy to drink it. I stumbled out of the bathroom wondering what to do next. I’d never committed suicide before, didn’t know what to expect. I doubted I’d fall into a peaceful sleep with the godawful racket going on downstairs. I ambled to the bed, went to sit.
Missed.
“Sh-shit.” I think it took a while to get up again. When I had, my ears were drawn to the rhythm section kicking in on the first downbeat of Sledgehammer by Peter Gabriel. I adored this song, had so much respect for the creativity behind it, the way the synth and horn timbres produced that classic eighties sound. The man was a fucking legend. I cracked open the bedroom door, rested my forehead against the doorjamb, absorbed the music. How ironic that I managed to produce my first genuine smile in weeks just as I was about to die.
I didn’t remember going downstairs. Must’ve blacked out. Lost time. Sleep-walked. Hell knows. Somehow, I ended up by the swimming pool in the basement. I’d lost the vodka bottle along the way…or maybe I’d drank it all. There were no people here, but the speakers blasted music same as everywhere else in the lower levels of the house.
Shine a Light. The Rolling Stones.
Another smile.
What beautiful music to accompany me.
The water looked like a dark and magical lagoon thanks to the black granite that lined its walls and floor. I stood at the top end, watching over. It would feel lovely on my overheated skin, I imagined. Refreshing. The water looked so calm, like my mind now. I felt better, finally. Peace was near, I could feel it.
My body was growing heavier. My eyes, wearier. I could hardly see the light shining down from the ceiling anymore, or the mirrors lining the room. I could only see the black water…or were my eyes closed? I wasn’t sure. I was certain I hadn’t moved yet I felt myself falling. It didn’t scare me, even when my face hit the water. I was right. It felt wonderful. Cooling. Peaceful. My arms spread out by my sides, carrying me across. Finally, it felt calm enough to sleep. I was ready.
I didn’t want to die…I just wanted this life to end.
Fifteen
Helen
“Have you seen Hugo?”
Another shrug. That must’ve been the fifteenth in a row. He was the star of the show for Christ’s sake. It was his party. How could nobody have seen him?
“You know, he’s probably just hiding,” Chrissie said. “You said he doesn’t like crowds and it’s pretty hammered here tonight.”
It wasn’t that. Something didn’t feel right. Hugo was a brilliant faker. He’d have put on a front for these people, saved his meltdown for later. “Maybe,” I said anyway. My gut didn’t have magical powers. I could’ve been wrong. “I’ll check upstairs.”
He had to be somewhere. I’d been making a conscious effort to check on him every half-an-hour or so. What if he’d felt ‘fine’? I needed to find him.
I weaved my way through a trail of celebrities and showbiz know-it-alls, which still managed to scramble my mind, and headed for the stairs. I’d only climbed the first one when I spotted Drew veering off the hallway into the kitchen. “Drew!” I called. “Have you seen Hugo?” I knew he had, I’d seen them dancing together not too long ago, so I diverted from my plan and hurried over to him.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Hel. I, uh, I…”
“What?” I snapped. “Have you two had an argument?”
“Kinda. He told me he wasn’t okay and…” I waited, but all I got was a sigh.
“And? He’s not okay and now I can’t find him, Drew! Tell me what happened.”
His eyes squinted, as if waiting for the punch to land. “I kissed him.”
“You did what?”
“I was drunk. I didn’t mean-”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I needed to find Hugo more than ever. I ran back to the stairs, ignoring Drew when he shouted, “I really am sorry, Helen!” Reaching the top felt like tumbling into a time machine. Panic. Breathlessness. Once again cursing my unfit body and its inability to find Hugo fast enough, knowing he was in trouble.
“Hugo?” I pushed open doors along the landing as I went, tossing cursory glances in each room. He rarely went in ones he didn’t use regularly, so I didn’t stop until I reached his bedroom. “Hugo?” Where the hell are you? The bedroom was empty, though I noted the duvet had been disturbed. I almost left, until I also noticed the en suite door was open. I walked towards it, called out for him again…and then I saw the mess.